


Pawn (WORKING ON UPDATES)

by LittleRedWolfe (orphan_account), OctoberNightmare, Sensinister



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Dark Harry, Death Eaters, Do-Over, Dumbledore Bashing, Harry is The Dark Lord, Hermione Bashing, Immortal Harry, Kind of Underage Sex, LOTS of violence, M/M, Magic of Samhain, Master of Death, Necromancy, Neville is The Light Lord, Paganism, Parselmage, Parselmagic, Parseltongue, Rated For Violence, Runes, Second Chances, Slytherin Harry, Some Dark Weasleys, The Deathly Hallows, WORKING ON UPDATES, Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LittleRedWolfe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberNightmare/pseuds/OctoberNightmare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensinister/pseuds/Sensinister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry laughs as he stands atop the mountain of dead bodies, smiling at Neville with such venomous glee that it actually sends shivers down his spine. They stand alone on the battlefield, drenched in blood, dirt, and rain. They are the last two living beings on a destroyed planet, all the others, magic and muggle alike, killed in this great war. This is how it was meant to end. It was always supposed to be them. The Boy Who Lived, and The Unexpected Hero. The Lord of the Dark, and the Lord of the Light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end... or the begining

**Key…**

“Talking”

**~Talking in Creature Languages~**

_**||** Written word, diary, newspaper, note, etc. **||**_

_‘Thinking'_

_**:::** Flashback, Dream **:::**_

****mental speech****

 

 

 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

￼

**Pawn: Prologue**

**October 31, 2010**

The sky lights up with a flash of white lightning, thunder crashing soon after like a sinister rolling drum beat, the thick grey clouds casting the muddy battlefield into the dark. Rain threatens to fall in the flavor of the air and the charged atmosphere, but so far no water falls to wash the stench of blood from the Earth.

A man, barely over thirty years of age, stands in the corpse strewn field, a broken sword held tight in his hand. The sword of Gryffindor has been his faithful weapon for years. Neville is one of only two people left alive since the massacre started. No one else is left. The man sobs openly as he looks upon the thousands of mangled bloody corpses strewn across the ground. Everyone is dead. Magical and muggle alike in mountains of death on a destroyed planet, and it can all be blamed on one man.

High cold laughter brings him out of his selfish sorrows, and he stiffens in horror. Turning hesitantly, barely able to keep his strength, he looks upon the immortal in disgust. He is the reason for all this death. This man in the body of a child. Had someone been told to guess his age, they may have guessed fifteen, but they would be wrong. The man was only a day younger that Neville.

Once upon a time he was a savior.

A long time ago, he was revered and respected, but now he is too far gone to insanity to care. The tired man watches as the other dances atop a hill of putrid rotting bodies, the limp form of his wife in his arms, her red hair hanging like a veil. Bile rises as he stares at her empty eyes and the intestines wrapping around her thin legs as the horrible man drags her around in a mockery of a waltz.

“Potter!” he calls, and the green eyed nightmare stops his waltzing to look at the bloodied sword bearer. He unceremoniously drops his wife’s body, then slides down from the mountain to a lower height.

He smiles, cold and manic, down at Neville. “Yes?” He drags the word out as he says it, ending in a hiss.

“Don’t you see what you have done?!” He screams at the man, and he just shrugs nonchalantly.

Oh how the people once looked up to this horrible demon of a man. It truly is a mystery, how he fell so hard and so fast. Not so long ago he was the perfect savior, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. And then everything changed.

One day, only have a month after the final battle, Harry Potter just lost it in the middle of Diagon alley, and he killed everyone for no reason. It was a massacre, and the blood and destruction must have made the devil himself churn in hell in terror. You couldn’t even identify the corpses when he was done. They found him amidst the blood and gore, laughing manically as he, much the same as he had just been doing moments ago, danced with a woman who was no longer alive.

Of course they locked him up after that, in a prison no one had ever escaped from. A prison that made Azkaban look like the lowest security prison ever built. In the prison on the Isle of the Blessed, ironicly named when you took into consideration all that happened there, they tortured him to the breaking point and beyond, but that horrible grin never left his face. He never stopped his laughter. For seven years they repeatedly destroyed the savior in an attempt to give him back his sanity. And then one day he vanished. Two years later the war started, and now after only a few short years, they are all that’s left. The two of them all alone on a poisoned Earth.

“There’s no one left!” He cries. “You’ve killed everyone.”

The insane war criminal tilts his head to the side, grin stretching further across his blood streaked face. “Oh but Nev, that isn’t true. You’re still here.” Said fair haired man grimaces and the dark haired monster giggles. “I’m still here. Do we not matter?”

“No we don’t Harry.” he shakes his head, trying to fight back more tears threatening to spill along with the contents of his stomach. “Do you even see what you’ve done? Ron. Hermione. Luna. Fucking Draco bloody Malfoy! There’s no one left.”

“Oh how the mighty have fallen!” he chuckles, sarcasm dripping from his voice like poisoned honey. The words ring true in Neville’s head. The mighty Harry Potter has fallen, and in his place stands this creature. “Don’t be so angry, Longbottom. It was just a bit of fun.”

“Starting a war that destroyed everything is fun for you?!” The blonde shrieks.

“Yes.” He says it with such seriousness that it takes Neville’s breath away. Then that dangerously venomous smile falls from his face. “But Nev, I wasn’t the one who destroyed magic. That was all your doing.”

He cringes, knowing Harry is right. He was the one who destroyed the magic. He was the one who poisoned the world. But how was he supposed to know that magic was the only thing keeping the planet alive? How was he supposed to know that destroying the magic would cause so much devastation. He was only trying to weaken that son of a bitch anyways. He had every intention to fix it after Harry Potter’s head was on a stake. The raven haired male picks up another corpse, and starts swinging him about in a sick mockery of a dance.

Neville has no clue who this one belongs too, but he remembers he was a Hufflepuff from a few years after him. This time he can’t hold back the vomit, and he wretches all over a pile of stinking corpses he can’t even recognize as human or not. Harry frowns at him.

“Well that wasn’t nice.” he says. “It’s very rude to puke on someone. Even if they are dead.” he tosses a grubby handkerchief at Neville, who gives him a baleful glare. “Wipe yourself off Nev, you’re bleeding.” He cackles, dropping the Hufflepuff, who rolls down the pile and into the sick.

He really is bleeding, and not from a shallow cut either. It’s amazing Neville is even able to stand. He should be draped across the bodies, his face in a bloody puddle of rainwater or vomitous sludge, dead as can be. But somehow he’s still standing. It’s not fair that Harry seems mostly untouched. Sure the blood running down into his one good eye is his own, and he has a few open cuts over his scar covered skin, but he is still standing strong. Neville will die, and the last thing he will see is this man’s horrid smile. It’s not fair. The strength leaves him slowly, giving him long enough to shoot a few choice curses at the demented man, and them he drops to his knees, and falls dead to the ground.

On the battlefield Harry Potter laughs, not the triumphant or demented laugh of a demon, but the bitter laugh of a man who has lost everything. Blood, unnoticed in the battle do to his dark robes, practically pours down his back. He pulls a broken bloodied locket from his pocket, curls up atop the mountain of corpses, and lets death take him.

**~*~**

“Hello, My Lord Master.” A whispery voice says, startling the man awake as he lies on the cold grey floor.

He blinks up at the being crouched over him, a shark like grin painted across a pale grey lipped face, onyx eyes sparkling with mirth and well hidden bitterness. The figure is female, long black hair falling in dark waves around a beautifully shaped face, dressed in diaphanous black robes that do little to cover the naked skeletal form of the woman. He sits up, keeping his eyes firmly on the felinesque eyes of the female as he notices his surroundings. He is in an empty room, rather like a padded cell, with a floor and roof made of ice, and a ground to ceiling window overlooking a murky grey sky and swirling black lake of souls. He is pretty sure he must be dead.

“Er, Hello.” he says. “Why did you call me your lord master? Not that I don‘t like it, mind you, I just don’t understand.”

The woman giggles, caressing his cheek lovingly. “Silly boy. You are my Lord and Master. It is simply fact. I could have allowed another to come and claim that title, but instead I choose you. And you choose me, my child, the moment you became the master of the three hallows, you became my lord.”

Emerald green eyes widen, and pink lips part in shock at her words. “Death.” It is an observation, and yet he does not continue until after she nods. “You are Death. But I can’t be your master, I threw the wand away, and I lost the stone in the forest. And the cloak was burned with the rest of my possessions the day they threw me in prison.”

“That may be so, child, but you are the last person to hold all three in possession, if not all at the same time.” Death says, standing and starting to circle the room.

“But what does that even mean?” Harry asks. “Master of Death. I thought it was just a story. A fairytale.”

“In a way, it is a fairy tale.” the being sighs. “I can choose whether or not to obey or even acknowledge my Lord and Master. I have many items that I could have used as hallows, the weakest of which I gifted to the Peverell brothers. Not because they cheated the inevitable, but because when I met them they were all sweet kindly men, humble and worthy of greatness. Power corrupted Antioch, and I regretted giving Cadmus the resurrection stone only days after I gifted it to him, because love and loss corrupted him just as well, if not worse than power did his brother. Ignotus was the only one of the three who did not disappoint me in the end. I gifted them with the knowledge of how to create the hallows, rather than give them the power freely as your stories would suggest, but the hallows were of my own design. Clever boys, those three necromancers were, but even they would not have known to use the items to make the hallows without my help.”

“Okay, that still doesn’t explain what being your master entails.” Harry points out, and Death’s grey lips pull down into a slight frown.

“Hush dearie, I am getting there. Patience is a virtue.” She intones. “As I was saying, I chose to acknowledge you as my master. You, despite your flaws and your bitterness and your lust of blood and suffering, have the most beautiful soul I have seen in all my years, in all my centuries even. You glow. In this world of darkness and despair. Your soul still shines like a bright star, a beacon in the shadowy abyss we call existence. You were given power and yet you did not let it corrupt you. Yes, you destroyed an entire world simply because, in the eyes of everyone on this world, you were bored and betrayed. Yet there was so much more to it than simple tedium. More than the treachery of your trusted. Yes, you were cruel. But you were used and treated as a disposable pawn, cast aside by those you loved, and mercilessly tortured and abused by those you should have trusted. You had every right to make their demises far, far worse than you did.”

Harry shivers as he thinks over the memories that would make her think such words with as much conviction as she does.

“I watched over you from the very moment of your birth, knowing that I wanted you to be my master. I saw them beat you and abuse you until you nearly fell to my grasp time and time again, and watched as some touched you in ways that made me hate for the first time in so many centuries I‘ve lost count. I could do nothing to interfere with the acts being done to you. I could do nothing but watch and help you heal faster when they were done.” Death gives him a sad grimace.

“And yet still, where any other would have had their souls stained black, where any other would have bestowed the same agony upon them, you still showed them mercy in a quick and painless death. You could have prolonged their sufferings to the end of time itself, but instead you chose to wipe out everything so they would not have to suffer long. Everyone else saw an evil wizard, but I saw the purest, noblest, and kindest person to ever be. Yes, your method was unorthodox. But you did it not just because of the bored betrayal that others accused you of, but because the love you had for these people knew no bounds. You destroyed a world to save them from themselves and their ever burning hatred and cruelty. You became a dark lord so they would have someone to blame. You bore the weight of the world on your shoulders until it became to much. That, my sweet little mockingbird, is why I wished for you to be my master. You are innocent even when shrouded by blood and death. And so you ask what it means to be my master, hmm?”

Harry nods, trying to fight back the blush and awe that comes from her kind words. Not one person has ever shown him the same sort of, passion, for lack of a better word. Death looks upon him with burning passion, almost like a pride filled mother, or a mentor who had just been surpassed by her protégée. It‘s warming, and unnerving all the same. “Yes please, I’d like to know.”

“It means freedom.” she breaths. Harry arches a brow but doesn’t say anything.

She speaks the truth, for he no longer feels the ever consuming need to save everyone.

“You are blessed by magic and myself.” Death begins in a soft voice. “You are immortal, and you will be given access to indefinite power. You have choices, and you have gifts. I will explain all the boons, depending on the choice you choose.”

“Okay.” He nods softly. Death smiles. “Choice one is simple, my child.” She holds up one long gaunt finger. “I can allow you to continue this life you hold now. You can choose to travel to new worlds, or try and salvage the poisoned home you’ve left behind. I will raise your soul mate back from the grave, and he will be given immortality by your side. He will help you heal the planet, and I will help create new life if that is what you wish. Of course if you wish to live on a dead planet with no company but that of your soul mate’s that is fine by me. I could care less what you do, as the only reason you get these choices is because you have suffered so. And I am a bitter old soul, who wishes nothing more than to spoil my child.”

“You call me child a lot.“ Harry musses. “And I mean no offence when I say this, but that choice sounds kind of shitty.”

“I figured you’d say that, but if anyone could run a kingdom of new souls, or bring a planet with all hope lost back from the brink, it would be you.” Death smiles warmly, holding up a second finger. “Anyways, I call you child because you are my son, if not in blood or birth then by my own choice. For your second choice, I could let you pass on. You can join me in the afterlife and help me with my job, be my little protégée, until we find a life you wish to be reborn to.”

Harry wrinkles his nose and she giggles. “Didn’t expect you to jump at that one either, really.”

“Choice three?” He prompts, holding up three fingers and wiggling them expectantly.

“I can let you start a new life. I could have you reborn to any time you wish. You could grow up by your love’s side, or be a part your parents lives, knowing that should your self be born to one Lily and James Potter later, that you will be reborn once more into that body and life anyways.” Death says, “With that in mind, I bring up choice four. You can be reborn at the start of this life. Redo the path that was laid out before you, and choose your own way. Help your dearest rise to power and save them all from certain destruction. Though they do not deserve it, or your kindness.”

“Hmmm.” Harry hums thoughtfully. “As much as the idea of growing up by Tom’s side pleases me, I think I would prefer to restart this life. Although, could you drop me in like just before I go to Hogwarts the first time, that way I don’t have to be stuck as a baby.”

“Unfortunately no, I can not.” Death sighs. “I can drop you off on the night of your parents death, as it is the night you first gained custody of the cloak, if not officially, or on the Samhain just after your birth so you have a year with your parents before you are put into the custody of that disgraceful human farmhouse. I must use one of those two, because that is when the magic of All Hallows Eve is strongest for you, and that is the magic we need to use to make this possible.”

“Okay, you mentioned boons earlier? I have chosen the fourth choice, and I’d like a little time with my parents, even if I will have to act like a babe, but I would like to know what I am getting into.” he steeples his fingers in his lap, just then realizing his own robes are as translucent as hers. It doesn’t actually bother him as much as it should to realize he might as well be naked.

“Fair enough, my sweet.” Death stops her pacing and sits back down, cross-legged in front of him. His eyes wander down her barely covered form appreciatively despite his best efforts not to notice, and he mentally scolds himself for the inappropriate staring. Death giggles, but doesn’t comment on his checking her out. “I mentioned immortality. You can not die. Sure until you are used to it you will be sent back to meet with me in one of my many different forms, but you will never wake up more than a few seconds after you died, unless you wish the stay in the afterlife. You will always have the choice to change your mind.”

“Let’s see.” She looks thoughtful. “You will be given a form of eidetic memory, stronger than the normal born or genetic memory would have been. Anything you witness, anything you read, you will never forget. This could be a curse in ways, because there are some things you may see or read that will make you wish to gouge your eyes out, and for that I am sorry, but I can not shelter you from such things.”

“You will have an easier time learning languages, because the basics of all languages will be ingrained into your mind.” She shrugs. “This isn’t to say you will instantly know the language. It will just be easier for you, but you will still have to put forth effort to learn them.”

“You will possess a deep and intimate understanding of the old and lost magics. Blood magic, elemental magic, necromancy, shadow magic, and many others will come easy to you. Like breathing. Half of the knowledge you will gain in this respect is what you had already known from your secret study sessions when no one was looking. The rest is just knowledge of the theory and all you will need is practice. Martial and Weapon magic will be harder to learn, because no matter how much understanding you have, you will need to practice those particular strains of magic with a lot more patience. There is a coven of vampires near Godric’s Hollow that will recognize you as an old soul and my master, and they will be more than happy to help you with anything you need. The same can be said for the coven in the Carpathian Mountains. Or the daemon hive in Wales. The werewolf pack in Scotland’s forbidden forest. And the druid tribe in New Orleans. I will give you the apparition coordinates as you leave to be reborn, and you can feel free to travel.”

“You never did learn this in your last life, but you are one of a very rare few with the ability to have multiple animagus forms. The last Multi-Animagus born was Salazar Slytherin. Well okay, not entirely true. Your dear love is one too, though he is actually not aware of this fact. It’s an ability that is rather like Parseltoungue, because it must be passed genetically. Parseltongues get their abilities from the naga blood. Multi-Animagi get their shifting forms from ancient metamorphagi.”

“This brings to light one important fact of your family, actually.” Death continues. “Your mother was not the child of two mundanes, but the long lost daughter of a pureblood family, adopted by the Evans family when she was only a few days old. She herself only found this out a few days before she and James had to go into hiding, but you can claim Lordship, but I will leave you to find out what houses you are Lord of. Can’t give you everything, else you would become a spoiled prat like Draco Malfoy.”

“You will have prophetic dreams and small glimpses of the future, to help you make sure your path is the one you wish. There are other gifts I will leave you to figure out on your own. You will be allowed to keep all your knowledge gained in this life, and your current magical core will be added to that of your three month old self. That is quite a bit of power.” She smiles. “Anyways, you have a few tasks to do if you feel up to it, but like I said before it is your choice what you do or do not do. The first is to reintroduce this world to the old and lost magics. The way they are going, every bloody wizard is going to be extinct with or without your help in doing so, but if they remember what magic used to be they could be saved. You hold the knowledge of everything lost, and you could let it be known.“

“The second is to try and get your death count matching your quota from this last life. I’ll give you some perks if you do. If you kill someone with special gifts, I might even transfer them to you. Magical creatures are also allowed in the death count. Vampires are good prey. Now the Carpathian coven, the Albanian coven, and the Welsh coven by Godric‘s Hollow are off limits, but the rest of them are fair game. You can easily tell. Born vampires age slow, but they are not immortal. Those are the ones I like, because I myself created them. Those who sold their souls, or used spells to gain their vampirism, are the ones I want you to target. Drain them of their blood, they wont ever get back up. Dead man’s blood injected into any place with also work. Drink their blood and you will gain all sorts of fun gifts even without my help.” Death looks absently out the window. “The veil will be closing soon, best wrap this up.”

“But I still don’t understand.” Harry pouts, and death chuckles.

“Follow your instincts, my beauty. They will not lead you wrong.” Death advises. “I will send you back to the very moment October 31, 1980 begins. Enjoy your life. Everything you need to know is in your head, and if you have an emergency, just off yourself and we can talk. I will visit when I can, but I am a very busy man.”

“Man?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“One of many forms. I am both, and I am neither.” Death shrugs, then leans forward and kisses his lips.

“Fare thee well, Harridan James Potter, My king.”

“And you as well, Lady Death.” He nods, then everything goes fuzzy.

**~*~**

**So,[Sensinister](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensinister/profile) is going to be helping write this with me. Sorry it's been so long. I will still update slow, but go easy on me. I haven't tried to write anything in a long long time. ~Night**


	2. Note from Sens

**OctoberNightmare: FUCK YOU! I promised the readers you'd update on May 01, or I would. But I trusted your word that you only needed five more days. Update by May 31, or admit you have abandoned this work. I even updated it in your story so you cannot tell me you didn't see it. ~ Sens**

**To the Readers: Thank you all very much for your endless patience. You all stand as witnesses,  if OctoberNightmare doesn't update by midnight May 31, 2015 (Pacific time) he/she forfeits her right to calling this story a work in progress. At that time, I will take over and hope I do the idea justice. I am sorry for the delay. ~Sensinister**

_ **EDIT: Well, It looks like October has Abandoned this story. I'll be honest guys, I have never written a Dark Harry fic, so give me a little bit to read every dark Harry fic ever written (or at least a few to get acquainted) and October's Notes, and I will have an update for this as soon as possible. I'll try not to keep you all waiting as long. No guarantees on a full 66 chapters though. ~Sens** _


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